So You See
by Belita Girl
Summary: An error of Smither's causes him to lose his job. As if that wasn't enough his employer and secret crush, Mr. Burns, has already replaced him. And the replacement proves to be much more trouble for Smithers then he ever would have imagined.
1. Big Man In Charge

So You See: Chapter 1 - Big Man in Charge

Disclaimer: I don't own the Simpsons.

Authoresses Note: This is my first Simpsons story. It's only involving (as of now) Mr. Burns and Waylon Smithers. This chapter does not contain very many references to Smithers feelings towards Mr. Burns but rest assured the next and the ones following it will. They're in this chapter in subtle ways. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

The limousine ride to the Vandershoot's mansion was a very tense one for Waylon Smithers. He looked into the rear view mirror over at his elderly employer, C. Montgomery Burns, who was sitting in the backseat behind him but Burns would not meet his gaze. He stubbornly insisted on staring straight ahead with his eyes fixed on nothing in particular. Smithers sighed and looked down at his hands clutching the steering wheel.

He was accompanying Burns to a party hosted by the very wealthy businessman Richard Vandershoot. This party was exclusive to the wealthy business owners and their faithful lackeys whom many rich party goers chose to bring. It wasn't the thought of the party that made him feel so tense, he had accompanied Burns to many parties in the past, it was the thought of spending an evening with the furious Mr. Burns.

Earlier that day Smithers had ruined Mr. Burns's lunch by putting slightly too much butter on his baguette. Next he had laid out a suit for Mr. Burns to wear to the party that had a single hair on the front breast pocket that Smithers in his inspection seemed to have missed. Mr. Burns had furiously accused him of trying to sabotage him at the biggest party of the year and claimed that Smither's incompetence could've lost him some of the largest business deals of his long life.

Like always Smithers just took the abuse and did as he was told. Unfortunately Burns's mood hadn't lifted and Smithers feared for his job if something were to go wrong at this party. It wouldn't even have to be his fault, Mr. Burns would blame him anyways. He just hoped that Mr. Burns made some good business deals and became a little happier. Maybe if all went well then Smithers would be forgiven and Mr. Burns would show him a rare show of kindness that occasionally came about when his mood was very high.

"We've –uh– arrived sir." Waylon stammered as he pulled up to the valet.

"Well what the devil are you waiting for Smithers? Get out and open my door!" His boss snapped.

"Yes sir." Smithers said obediently. He exited the limousine and opened the door for his employer who stepped out and gave him an ungrateful look. The pair set up the marble staircase that led to the magnificent oak door. The mansion was more like a castle, adorned with turrets and built out of pink and grey stone. A large wrought iron fence surrounded the large property on all sides.

The two stopped and Mr. Burns made a nudging motion with his head towards the large brass knocker.

"Oh right of course sir." Smithers said quickly and lifted his hand to knock on the door when the door opened suddenly. A butler in a fancy black tuxedo opened the door from the inside and bowed them inside.

"Montgomery Burns, a pleasure, Mr. Vandershoot has been expecting you. Please allow me to show you to him in the party." He said respectively. Mr. Burns nodded and they followed the butler inside to a very large and very expensively decorated room.

The large party room was complete with a grand piano in the far corner and a live jazz band playing a light tune in the opposite corner. The walls were seemingly painted gold and the marble floor was polished to the max. Many fancy, and obviously rich, people were mingling amongst themselves as waiters adorned in black tuxedo's like the one the butler was wearing were weaving around the guests serving fancy hors d'oeuvres. In the center of the high ceiling a very large and very elaborate glass chandelier was hanging. Smithers had been to many mansions but this was by far the most intricate he'd ever seen.

His shock and awe must've shown because Burns elbowed him roughly in the ribs and hissed, "Stop staring you ninny. They'll think I'm not nearly as rich as I am."

Smithers nodded and rubbed his sore ribs as the butler excused himself to go find Mr. Vandershoot.

As a waiter passed carrying a large tray of shrimp Smithers turned to his boss.

"Would you like some shrimp sir?" He asked. Burns just grunted his annoyance and snapped back at poor Waylon.

"You fool. You make me late to the largest party of the year and now you offer me shrimp to try and make it up?!" He angrily asked.

"We're not late sir the party starts at-" Smithers started to say but was cut off as the butler arrived with Richard Vandershoot. The butler bowed himself away.

"Ah Monty!" His loud voice boomed and he offered his hand to shake Burns's who accepted. "It's been a long time. How've you been cooped up in that plant of yours?" He asked.

"I've been good, not as young as I used to be but I've got my young assistant Smithers here to keep me youthful." He said, sounding nice for once, but Smithers knew it was all for show and he knew how to play along.

"Nice to meet you sir." Smithers said politely and accepted Richards proffered hand.

"Smithers eh? I've heard of you from other acquaintances of Burns. If only I had a man like you working for me then I'd never have to lift a finger. You're one of the best." He complimented with a poke to Smithers chest.

"Thank you very much sir." He responded back.

"Now Monty let's say I introduce you to some of the new business men and women. You knows, maybe you'll see a bright young talent and be interested in investing in a company." Richard threw an arm around Mr. Burns's shoulder and started to lead him away.

Smithers knew well enough not to follow. This was business between the rich and wealthy and he knew that Mr. Burns wouldn't want him tagging along and embarrassing him. Feeling slightly miserable he made his way over to the side of the room. The butler from earlier came up to him.

"Rough night?" He asked.

"Yes kind of." He replied feeling down.

"If you want you don't have to hang around here feeling bored. There's a separate room for those who've the guests have brought along with them. Personal assistants and such. It's just down that corridor right there and third door on your left." He pointed at a door. "There's an open bar in there so if it interests you just go on ahead. Your boss won't mind I'm sure."

Smithers thanked him and started walking towards the said room. He put his hands in his pockets and hung his head. The butler said that 'his boss' wouldn't mind but he obviously didn't know Mr. Burns. If he needed something and didn't see Smithers his mood would certainly not lift. He decided to himself that he'd just go for a drink and then check back up on Mr. Burns.

He walked into the staff lounge and looked around. It too was a very large, although not quite as large or elaborate as the previous one. He walked over to the bar and sat himself down in one of the handsome oak bar stools.

"What will ye' have?" The bartender asked in a cockney accent.

"A whiskey please." Smithers sighed.

He sat there drinking his shot when he started to think back at how Mr. Vandershoot had complimented him and Mr. Burns didn't say anything to agree. He just stood there. As one whiskey turned into ten to get rid of his depression his mood started to change. He started to become a little angry. After another five his mood went from a little angry to very angry. At some point his bowtie had loosened and now hung limply around his neck. His hair had become messy and unkempt.

"That shtupid Mr. Burnsss." He horribly slurred his words. "I ought to go tell him what I thinkssss of 'hic' him." He got up slowly and after nearly falling several times and opening the wrong doors he found himself in a grand ballroom once more.

He somehow managed to spot his boss through all the people. He walked over to the grey haired man and grabbed him roughly by the shoulder.

"Now ya listen here _ssssir_." He said angrily. "I donnot like the way ya treat me." He started to poke the man angrily in the chest in a drunken fashion.

"Smithers?" He heard a voice from behind ask in a shocked voice. He turned around wobbly as he saw the real Mr. Burns standing behind him opened mouthed.

"Oh. Sawrrry." He slurred to the man he had been previously telling off.

Mr. Burns tried to cover up his assistant's drunkenness. "Oh heh heh. That's just Smither's idea of a joke. We should really be getting going now." He tried to give Smithers a gentle push to the door. There was now a lot of people staring. But Smithers resisted.

"No sir." He started drunkenly. "I work my assoff fer ya and ya donnot even care. Ya just treat meh like dirt. If I were one of thes' fancy shmancy people I wouldn't make any businesss deals with ya." He told him angrily. If he wasn't drunk he would've never dared say these things to his bosses face in a room full of possible business partners let alone if it was just the two of them.

Burns looked horrified. He would've never expected Smithers to drunkenly open up to everyone. He looked at Smithers who was now swaying back and forth with a look of betrayal from his most faithful employee. However the look quickly turned to anger. To Smithers it was the last thing on his love interest's face he saw before passing out face down surrounded by snooty looks of shock and annoyance by the wealthy men and women.

* * *

Smithers opened his eyes and groaned at the light and quickly shut them again. He felt something soft beneath his aching head.

"What happened last night?" He wondered as he moved a hand up to his eyes to further block out the light seeping beneath his eyelids.

He must be back at home in his apartment. Where else could he be?

"Good morning, _Mr. Smithers_." A sardonic voice said from across whatever room he was in.

He shot up and looked at the source of the voice. There at the desk in the grand office of the power plant was his employer Mr. Burns. He had a sort of forced smile on his face.

"Err morning sir. What am I doing here exactly?" Smithers asked, scratching the back of his neck embarrassedly.

"Oh I'm sure it'll come to you Mr. Smithers. Just call me when it does." With that he put his head back down to whatever he was working on.

Smithers looked down at the bed. It seemed to be a small white cot from the medical office. As he was looking down he noticed he was still in his suit from the night before. And then it hit him.

"Oh my G-" He started to say but Mr. Burns gave a very forced laugh and cut him off.

"After your little, scene, last night you lost me several big business deals. I had to drive both myself and you back here. I saved a trip from your house and back here by just bringing you straight up here myself and calling a night employee to bring up a spare cot. That way you didn't have to drag yourself out of bed this morning and come here."

"That's very kind of-" He started to say but Mr. Burns cut him off with a very harsh and severe look.

"Smithers, yesterday you behaved in a way I couldn't have believed possible from you. You embarrassed both myself and the company."

"Please sir-" Smithers started to plead. But Mr. Burns didn't stop.

"It's unforgivable. You've betrayed me after all these years of faithful service and now I can't trust you."

"Just one more chance-"

"NO!" Burns shouted angrily. "One more chance would only cause you to ruin another business deal for me. This is it Smithers. This is the end of the line. You're FIRED!"

Waylon hung his head. Hot tears threatened to spill from his eyes. Instead of letting them fall however he raised his eyes to meet his boss's cold ones in an angry gaze.

"Fine. Fine! I'll go and leave you alone. But listen to me and listen to me good! You never cared about me or the quality of the work I did! I've put up with this thankless job for too long now! Putting up with your abuse for everything! Well that's it Monty! You'll hire new assistants but they'll never be like me! They'll never put up with all of your crap, they'll all leave you. You'll die alone and friendless because the last person who cared about you just walked out of your life." Smithers told him sternly.

Maybe it was because of the alcohol he had consumed last night or maybe it was because of the pain of a hangover that he was feeling as he looked at his now former employer that made him say those things. Burns just sat in his large chair, fingers forming a steeple, staring at Waylon with an unreadable expression. Neither moved from their spot, employee standing off against employer. And then, finally, Waylon turned his back to Mr. Burns without another word and marched right out of his office.

Minutes passed and Mr. Burns still didn't move. After a long time he brought his hand to his forehead and closing his eyes massaged his temples wearily.


	2. Memories and Surprises

So You See: Chapter 2 – Memories and Surprises

Disclaimer: I don't own The Simpsons.

Authoresses Note: Thanks to justamirrorforthesun's review. It's much appreciated. I just wanted to say that although I do like slash when it's well written I have not written any slash therefore I wouldn't know much about it. This story is going to contain Smithers wishes and hopes and love of Mr. Burns however it is a hurt/comfort and friendship story, my favourite kind to write. And it may border on slash if you consider Smither's feelings, which are included in the story, to be slash. I hope you all enjoy.

* * *

Waylon's anger had worn off as he walked through the beloved factory. In fact his misery had just set in as it did when he was fired once in the past. Tears once again threatened to spill as he walked past Lenny and Carl. In his daze he accidentally nudged shoulders with Carl who angrily snapped at him to watch where he was going.

He hadn't recognized him. He must've looked completely awful if the co-workers who usually feared him didn't recognize him. As he exited the factory with his back slumped and his hands in his pockets his tears actually did start to fall. He looked back once he was outside the gates. He looked at the large window that he and Mr. Burns would often stare out of, he would listen to Mr. Burns plans on how to get more money, and the tears came faster. Was Mr. Burns even watching him leave? Or was he just too busy with work to see his old friend walking away for the last time.

The walk back to his apartment was a very long and lonely one. The feeling that he would be seeing Mr. Burns the next day was gone and could no longer keep him company. When he finally unlocked his door and walked inside he felt exhausted, physically and emotionally. He flopped himself down on the couch and let his arm hang limply. He let his weary head rest on the arm of the couch when something on the desk caught his eye.

A picture in a simple black frame, sitting on the table, contained one of Waylon's most treasured memories. The picture contained a younger Smithers and Mr. Burns with Burns's arm draped around the uniformed and teenage Smithers shoulder looking proud as a father might. Waylon's eyes filled with tears once more as he thought back to that day.

* * *

_It was a regular evening in seventeen year old Waylon's house. He had come home from his part time job at the Springfield nuclear power plant. Mr. Burns had allowed him to work as an assistant and intern to him even though he was still quite young. He had had to work overtime and had come home quite late. As he walked into the front door he was roughly grabbed by the collar by his angry stepfather._

_"Where the hell have you been boy?! You're mother has been worried sick!" He snarled. Waylon highly doubted his mother had been all that worried and his doubts were confirmed as she walked into sight wearing hair curlers and a robe and smoking a cigarette, looking completely disinterested._

_"I told you I was working today." He said simply before shoving his stepfather's hands off his throat and turning his back on the two walking upstairs. But his stepfather wouldn't give up so easily. He caught Waylon by the scruff of the neck and threw him down the stairs so he landed on his back, hard. Giving a cry of pain he tried to get back up but his stepfather kept him down._

_"You never said anything about working boy. Besides your mother and I have been thinking. We've never seen you with any paychecks, if you're actually working, which we doubt you are, then where's the old man's money?" He snarled._

_Waylon's anger was rising to the surface quickly. "Don't you dare talk about Mr. Burns that way! He's twice the man you'll ever wish you were!" Young Waylon spat at his stepfather._

_His stepfather roared in anger before backhanding Waylon roughly across the face. His mother actually gasped at this as Waylon lifted his hand to his raw cheek. He felt the warm trickle of blood along the side of his face._

_"Freddy, you…you shouldn't have done that!" His mother spoke up in Waylon's defense for once._

_"I had no choice! I'm tired of this boys back talking. He's been asking for trouble for a very long time. I've had enough of you taking our hard earned money. If you make so much working for Mr. Burns then why don't you find something to spend it on, like helping out in this dump of a house?" He asked Waylon angrily._

_Wordlessly Waylon reached into his front pocket and pulled out a flyer. "I have found something to spend it on." He said simply, ignoring the blood from the cut on his cheek, and passed the flyer to his parents. His mother reached for it and looked over it. Her eyes widened._

_"Navy training? At an American base overseas? You can't be serious Waylon this is much too dangerous. You're just too young!" She said, looking slightly worried._

_"I'm serious. My wages should cover my travel expenses and living requirements. Besides why should you care? You never cared much for me after dad died. The only person who's really raised me is Mr. Burns. He's the one who gave me the job to get me out of this hell hole away from you two!" He said spitefully. "You've never made me happy in any way. I've put up with your abuse for seventeen years too long. I'm leaving this house and on Sunday, five days from now, I'm leaving on a barge from Springfield harbour out of your lives for good." He finished dramatically. He reached for the door knob, pausing for a second to see if they'd try to stop him. As expected they didn't. Sighing he opened the door and let himself out into the dusky street._

_"Wait Waylon!" He looked back for a second to see his mother standing there._

_"Where will you go?" She asked him. However he had thought of this before. He was going to ask for Mr. Burns's help one last time before he left for good._

_"I have an idea." He half whispered and with that left his old dingy house for the last time._

_He walked in the slightly chilly air. He was prepared to drop out of school in his last year just to join the navy. Just to get out of Springfield. The mansion on the hill came into his view however he still had a few minutes to walk. His thoughts turned to Mr. Burns, his mentor, his father figure. He had always felt safe when he was around. Like no one could hurt him while around him._

_Finally he arrived at the gate house of the mansion. He pushed the buzzer and after a moment Mr. Burns voice crackled over the voice box._

_"Yes?" He said it in a slightly suspicious voice. Smithers could already tell that he wasn't looking at his security cameras and had his finger hovering over the button to release the hounds. If he were looking at the screens then he'd have been able to identify Waylon's voice._

_"Sir, it's me."_

_"Waylon?"_

_"Yes sir." After a minute of silence the gates opened and he was allowed to make his way up to the front door. Before he could knock however the door opened for him and there stood Mr. Burns looking at him with a slightly worried look._

_"Waylon, why are you out this late and, Good Lord what's happened to your face?" He asked and moved aside for Smithers to walk in._

_"Err long story sir." He said awkwardly. He followed Mr. Burns into his living room and Mr. Burns motioned him to sit down. Obeying, Waylon lowered himself down into one of the comfier armchairs so as not to cause anymore pain to his back which was still sore from where his stepfather had thrown him._

_"So Waylon what will it be? Tea? Coffee?" He motioned to a tray sitting on the coffee table as he set himself down in one of the armchairs across from him._

_"Nothing sir. But thank you anyways." He looked down at his clasped hands awkwardly._

_"So, what brings you here at this time of night? It can't just be because you felt like strolling out in the dark with a bleeding cheek and a bruised body." He asked._

_"Wait how did you know I have a bruised body?" Waylon asked as his mind registered what had been said._

_"Slower reflexes and movements. Kind of like what happens when you get older, like myself, and a young man such as yourself shouldn't be experiencing those things naturally. Now you've successfully avoided my questions for the second time and I'm going to press my luck with, oh what's the saying, 'third time's the charm'." He said and brought a cup of tea up to his mouth._

_Waylon sighed but knew that he at least owed Burns an explanation. "Well you see sir…I've uh got to hand in my resignation." He finished sadly._

_Burns let his tea cup clatter to its saucer. "Resignation, but why? You aren't even out of school. Is it a problem with your school work?" He asked sincerely._

_"No sir. I've dropped out of school too."_

_"Good God boy what's with all this all of the sudden?" Burns asked worriedly._

_As soon as the word 'boy' left Burns's mouth Smithers emotional barriers crumbled to bits. It reminded him of the way his stepfather spoke to him. Without warning he broke down into noisy sobs leaving a bewildered Burns to wonder what had caused such a breakdown._

_Burns's got up to walk around to Waylon. "Are you alright Waylon?" He asked gently. "Have you gotten into some sort of teenage mischief? You can tell me you know." He placed his hand on Waylon's shoulder._

_"No it's not that sir." He choked out. "It's just that…I'm leaving Sunday to go to an overseas navy training base. I just had to get out of Springfield and leave my p-p-par-"_

_"Parents?" Burns filled in for him and Waylon nodded miserably._

_"I see." He said very seriously. "Would that explain your cheek and your other injuries?" He asked his voice suddenly containing anger in it. Once again Waylon nodded._

_Suddenly sounding much angrier Mr. Burns spoke up. "You can stay here, for as long as you need to, I'm not allowing you to return to those awful people." He told him sternly._

_Somehow through everything that was going on Waylon smiled. "I appreciate it sir."_

_"Call me Monty."_

_The last four days flew by and Waylon busied himself with tidying Mr. Burns's house while he was at work. The navy had sent him his uniform and the exact time the barge would be leaving._

_By the fifth morning Waylon knew that he wouldn't see Mr. Burns for a very long time and hoped that by waking up early he'd be able to catch him. However Mr. Burns had already left for work and Waylon was left feeling suddenly abandoned once more by his last parental figure._

_He was miserable as he got himself into uniform and gathered up what few belongings he had. He contemplated leaving a long note but settled for a very short and concise 'Thank You' which he left on Mr. Burns's armchair. Waylon figured that if Mr. Burns didn't have time to wish him good bye than he wasn't too concerned about his protégé and hearing about how much Waylon appreciated him and how he thought of him very highly._

_Once at the harbour he looked around in one last feeble attempt of feeling loved but didn't see anyone he knew. Not his parents and not Mr. Burns. He sighed and was about to walk on the plank but a voice from behind called him back._

_"You're that eager to get away that you wouldn't say goodbye?" Waylon whipped around to see Mr. Burns leaning up against a stack of crates with his business jacket hung on one arm._

_"You-you came to see me off?" He asked, awestruck._

_"Well of course, I'm here aren't I? Now before you leave to see the world I just wanted to let you know something-_

_Waylon had anticipated hearing something like this his entire life._

_-I'm very proud of you."_

_Unexpectedly his eyes felt suddenly watery. No one had ever said that they were proud of him._

_"Thank you sir." He whispered._

_"And that there will always be a job at the plant waiting for you if you want to come back."_

* * *

The picture was taken right before the last call for Waylon to board the ship. He had held onto the Polaroid for the entire trip. It was during that time in his life while he was in the navy risking his life that he realized that he wanted to go home. He wanted to go home and take Mr. Burns's offer for the job. It was also how much he realized he missed his mentor. He was the only one who ever showed him kindness and faith in him. He realized how much he just wanted to be near him. These feelings would be the ones that escalated into his present one.

When he finally returned home after being discharged he rushed right to the plant. He talked to Mr. Burns as soon as possible. He thought that after so long Mr. Burns wouldn't have recognized him or remembered him. But he did and even though Mr. Burns was never really all that forward when it came to affections Waylon could still see his happiness that he had returned home okay.

He had given him a small embrace before renewing his offer for a job. Smithers accepted it on the spot. Mr. Burns had aged quite a bit since the photo was taken. He was balding and didn't have nearly as much hair as he did in the photograph. He looked, well older, to put it bluntly. But Waylon never minded. He was just happy to be home.

As Mr. Burns aged he became slightly most hostile, more bloodthirsty, more dare he say it abusive. But Smithers followed him no matter what and put up with everything. Deep down he knew that his old friend, mentor, father figure and now crush were still there. Deep down inside he must still be proud of Smithers like he was on that day.

Days ago maybe Waylon would've agreed. But after that morning Waylon knew there wasn't a chance.

He got to his feet and decided to face his appearance. The mirror showed him exactly what he expected. Five o'clock shadow, rumpled hair, messed up business suit, and undone bowtie. He knew that he needed to clean up right away. He quickly showered and after realizing that there was no food in the house he got dressed and started to go out.

He was still bummed out as he entered the grocery store. It seemed like nothing could make him feel better at this point. As he entered one of the aisles he could hear a customer furiously yelling at a poor employee.

"Boy do I know how he feels." Waylon thought miserably. But something the customer yelled perked his interest.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T CARRY LUCKY CHARMS? THEY'RE MR. BURNS'S FAVOURITE BRAND!" He screamed.

Smithers gasped and dropped his basket. He cautiously peered into the next aisle and was horrified by what he saw. A man with flowing blonde locks, piercing blue eyes and a very muscular body was shouting down the poor employee but that's not what scared Waylon.

He was wearing Waylon's suit. The exact same style that he used to wear while working for Mr. Burns. He let himself slide to the floor. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't have replaced him _that_ fast. Could he?

Without thinking he ran to the front window and sure enough there was a big black limo. The tinted windows prevented him from seeing the occupants in full but he could make out the silhouette of a man with a long pointy nose, a hunched back and hands forming a steeple.

To Waylon it felt like someone had just blasted his heart with a sand blaster.


	3. Overheard Plots

So You See: Chapter 3 – Overheard Plots

Disclaimer: I don't own The Simpsons but I LOVED the movie.

Authoresses Note: As I said above I am in love with The Simpsons Movie! It was high-larious, as Mr. Burns would say. In fact it was so good I'm seeing it a second time! Here's the next chapter, enjoy. Oh and thanks to everyone for the reviews, I appreciate it very much.

* * *

Waylon felt what was left of his already broken heart shatter. He had replaced him. It hadn't even been two hours and Mr. Burns had replaced him. His breath got caught in his throat and he thought he might just die at that moment. It wasn't until a harsh voice broke him out of his misery that he finally took a breath.

"Move it will you!"

Waylon turned his head numbly to see Mr. Burns's new assistant glaring at him. He realized that he was blocking the exit.

"Oh right. Sorry." He mumbled and let him pass by despite the urge to throw him out of the large glass limo. Waylon was too overcome with a combination of emotions to even say anything more to the man. He felt angry, heartbroken, abandoned, and sorrowful all at the same time. He looked at the limo as the man got into the front seat and watched it drive off before turning back into the aisle he was originally in.

Meanwhile the occupant of the limo had in fact seen his former assistant. Mr. Burns had watched Smithers from his tinted windowed limo. As his new assistant started to drive him back to his plant his mind buzzed with different thoughts.

"He looked terribly betrayed. I might've been too…NO! I was not TOO harsh! The way he acted was completely out of order. HE'S the one who ruined my business deals AND embarrassed me in front of the wealthy inhabitants of Springfield and surrounding cities." He thought angrily, squashing down the sudden pity he had for his former assistant.

"We've arrived Sir." The assistant informed him as he parked the limo in front of the plant, breaking Mr. Burns out of his daydream.

"Yes. Thank you Smi…err Jenkins. Take the limo back to my manor and put away the purchases. After that come straight back to the plant." He ordered as Jenkins opened the door to let him out of the vehicle.

"Yes Sir." He said obediently. He drove off as Mr. Burns stepped into his plant. The employees always looked nervous when he was around but today they seemed even more so. The news that Smithers had been fired had traveled much too fast for Mr. Burns's liking and that only gave him reason to fear him more. He had fired Mr. Smithers, his own right hand man and assistant. His confidant and…friend.

Mr. Burns glared at a group of employees who had been lollygagging around the candy vending machine. They quickly scattered back to their posts. Burns went back into his thoughts. Friend? As much as he tried to reason that he had no friends he couldn't lie to himself. He had known Smithers since he was just a baby. He had practically raised him when his mother and lousy stepfather pushed him around. Smithers spent more time at his mansion then he did his own house. Of course they were friends.

But Burns was a business man. He couldn't let something like friendship stand in his way. He had a plant to run and Smithers had known that his job was first and foremost to be an employee.

He had finally reached his office and quietly let himself him. Sitting behind his desk he let himself gently fall into his chair. His old age greatly slowed him down and he admitted to himself that he needed someone to assist him all the time. He started on some paperwork that he had started that very morning. The very same he had been working on that morning when he had fired Waylon Jr. Strangely he found he couldn't concentrate. Looking up from his work he finally gave into his mind's relentless wanderings and let his gaze fall on nothing in particular.

Smithers had been with Mr. Burns longest out of all his employees. The second he had come back to Springfield from the Navy he came to the Springfield Nuclear Power Plant in hopes of receiving the job Mr. Burns had promised him. He remembered that day quite clearly.

_Mr. Burns had been increasingly frustrated with the lack of competent employees. It seemed that he was surrounded by imbeciles. Nothing they did ever seem like it helped the company. He found himself growing more and more bitter. He seemed to have aged faster than a normal person should in only five years. Five years didn't seem to be too much of a difference for someone who was already quite aged. However more and more often he found himself with a splitting headache or a terrible arthritis pain in his back. He saw plenty of men his age still jogging around like they were twenty. In his current condition he felt that if he even attempted jogging he'd wind up in a body cast._

_It was ironic really. The younger and more youthful employees were causing him to age faster. Every time one of them set off a false alarm due to one of their foolish games or every time one of them accidentally hurt themselves or another employee due to their carelessness he felt himself grow wearier. Who he needed was someone he could depend on. Someone reliable and loyal and able to carry out more than a basic task. Who we needed was someone he could trust. Who he needed was-_

_"Visitor for you Mr. Burns." His secretary's voice was heard over his desk top speaker. He cursed angrily for her insolence. Couldn't she tell that he was on his wit's end?_

_Flipping on the speaker button he growled back at her. "Fine, send whoever it is in." He demanded. Spinning his chair to face the window he made his fingers form a steeple and he glowered out the window, waiting for a knock on the door._

_When he finally heard it he said in a low and dangerous voice, "Come in."_

_The door creaked open but he still refused to turn around. God help him if it was one of those nitwits from Sector 5._

_"Mr. Burns?" The voice, obviously male, questioned. For a moment Mr. Burns didn't recognize it but then it hit him._

_He whipped around his chair and there stood the abandoned teenager he had seen off at the port. No, he was hardly a teenager now, instead of a teenager stood a man._

_"Waylon Smithers?" He questioned, hardly believing he was back. He looked different than when he had left. His hair had been shaved into a crew cut and his frame looked slightly larger, older._

_"Good afternoon sir." He said with a small and slightly embarrassed looking smile._

_Mr. Burns got up to greet him and came around to get a better look. Standing in front of Smithers he held out his hand and when Smithers grasped it the two men pulled each other into a one handed embrace laughing._

_"It's been a long time, nearly five years now?" Mr. Burns asked smiling. "Come, come. Sit down on this chair and we'll talk."_

_The two sat and talked for a long time. Smithers talked of his time in the navy and his training. His service had ended and he had wanted to finally return home and try and settle down._

_As he finished Mr. Burns couldn't help but realize that he was exactly what the company, what he, needed. He was trustworthy, hardworking and loyal from his navy training and Mr. Burns had known him since he was just a baby. And he had promised him a job when he returned._

_Smithers looked at his watch and looked back up._

_"I'm sorry sir but I've got to be running along now. Do you think we could, you know, keep in touch?" He asked hopefully._

_Mr. Burns smiled. "I think that can be arranged. How about we make a deal? You come personally work for me and we'll be 'in touch', what do you say?" He asked._

_Smithers face cracked into a wide grin. "Oh thank you sir. I've been looking forward to coming back home for a long time. I was hoping your offer for me to come work at the plant was still up."_

_"Of course. I'm a man of my word. As long as you live you can always call the plant home."_

Mr. Burns sighed and shook the memory from his head. He was too old to be guilty. He had long since shed most of his emotions.

The door opened up and Jenkins stepped inside. Mr. Burns quickly erased any trace of regret or guilt from his face replacing it with a scowl.

"What now?" He snapped. Jenkins bowed his head respectfully quickly.

"I've transferred all your groceries to your manor. Would you like me to do anything else?" He asked.

Mr. Burns quickly scribbled something down on the paper work he had been working on. "I've just finished this. Take it down to Sector 3 immediantely." He ordered and passed the paper over.

Jenkins nodded, "Of course." he said and with that left the office.

* * *

Jenkins did as he was told with the paper work and reported back to Burns who ordered Jenkins to drive him home. Jenkins had been given some free time before attending to Burns's dinner but that was good because he had some other business to attend to.

Burns didn't comment on the quality his work but according to his other boss that was a good thing. No news was good news when dealing with Monty Burns.

He walked along the street briskly. Everything his boss was paying him to do depended on what happened in the next half hour. His destination came into view. A simple looking apartment building. His partner was already in position and their target was walking up slowly and miserably, just like the boss predicted. He grinned and donned a pair of dark sunglasses.

* * *

Smithers was walking with his head hung and his mouth curved downwards in a sad way that made him look like he'd never be happy again. He was approaching his apartment building. He placed his hand on the glass front door and was about to push it open when a word caught his attention.

There were two men, wearing sunglasses and dark overcoats, talking quietly to themselves on a bunch several feet away. They didn't notice Waylon staring at them. Burns. Waylon was sure that he heard them say Burns. Quietly he walked over to the bench that was back to back to the one that the two men were on. He picked up a discarded newspaper and made it look like he was interested on an article about Kent Brockman being seen drunk in public.

"So when does the old man eat dinner?" One asked.

"Five o'clock on the dot or else he'll have a fit." The second voice replied. Waylon's eyes widened, that was when Mr. Burns ate! He could've sworn he recognized that voice too.

"Excellent. So you've got everything ready?" The first asked.

"Oh yes. That old git will never know what hit him." The second one cackled. Waylon suddenly realized who was talking. It was Mr. Burns's new assistant! He gripped the paper tightly as he listened further.

"How long will it take Jenkins?" The first and unknown man asked.

"The poison will take long enough for him to know that he's been done in. It's not that fast of a poison. He'll have some time to think. And to suffer." The speaker now identified as Jenkins replied.

In Waylon's horror he let the paper to his feet. His mind had gone numb and his palms had gone sweaty. These two men were going to kill Mr. Burns.

"Good luck with tonight Jenkins." The first said and Waylon heard him get up and start to leave.

"Thanks. It's nearly time for me to pick up Burns now. I'll see you later." He said and he too walked off.

Waylon's shock still hadn't worn off. This was not good, not good at all! All of the sudden he shot up as though electrocuted. He could not let this happen. He ran into the apartment building and dashed up the stairs into his home. Glancing at the clock he gasped when he saw it read 4:45.

Dinner was already set for Mr. Burns at 4:30 that way when he got home from work he could eat right at 5:00. He grabbed his car keys and dashed down the stars once more. He made his way into the underground garage and backed out his car so fast he nearly hit the car directly behind him. He didn't care though. He drove so fast but he knew it took nearly twenty-five minutes to get to Mr. Burns's manor from his apartment. He had to get there in fifteen or else he'd have Mr. Burns's death on his conscious.

He pulled up outside the manor's front driveway and fumbled for his Springfield Nuclear Power Plant Id badge, luckily he had kept it in his pocket as a reminder of his incompetence. He found it and prayed that Mr. Burns had forgotten to disable his access to the manor from the front gate. He ran over to the front gate house where a swipe machine stood. He swiped his card and awaited the answer from the robotic female voice.

"Access granted." The computer said in its monotonous voice. Smithers breathed a sigh of relief. He slipped through the gate and ran all the way up the front path before bursting through the front door.

"MR. BURNS! MR.BURNS!" He yelled out and started running in the direction of the dining room.

He finally got to the closed door before slamming into it to open it. Panting he stepped in the room to see Jenkins and Mr. Burns starring at him with different expressions. Jenkins almost had a look of faux shock. Mr. Burns looked shocked at first but his face quickly changed into a deep scowl.


	4. True Motives

So You See: Chapter 4 – True Motives

Disclaimer: I don't own The Simpsons.

Authoresses Note: I just wanted to apologize for the length of this chapter. I will also be going away for eight days so expect an update in about nine or so days as I will not have access to a computer and internet. Thanks.

* * *

"Smithers! What in the hell are you doing here?" Mr. Burns shouted angrily.

Waylon didn't waste any time. He pointed at Jenkins. "He's going to poison you! I heard him and his partner talking about it earlier! They had it planned for tonight"

Mr. Burns raised an eyebrow and looked at Jenkins who gave Waylon a smirk.

"You must be mistaken. I would not try to poison Mr. Burns. Look I'll prove it to the both of you. May I?" He asked as he pointed to Mr. Burns's meal.

"Go ahead. We'll see whose lying." Mr. Burns said and pushed the plate forward.

To Waylon's shock Jenkins took a bite of the lasagna on the plate and didn't flinch or gag or choke.

"There. Completely innocent." He said simply as he swallowed.

"No. I heard you, I swear I did." Waylon said out of shock.

"Well you were wrong now I suggest you stop interrupting your former boss's dinner and leave." Jenkins pointed at the door.

"Wait, you could've taken an antidote!" Smithers said aloud. "Mr. Burns, allow me to try to try a bite and we'll see whose lying." He said as he tried to defend his case further.

Mr. Burns sighed irritably. "Fine." He growled.

Waylon knew he was grabbing at straws with this accusation but still he reached forward to take a bite. He chewed and swallowed he felt suddenly embarrassed. There was nothing wrong with the food. He had just made a complete fool of himself by running into the manor and throwing around accusations.

"Well Smithers I think you've done enough. I'll handle things from here Mr. Burns." Jenkins said as he grabbed Waylon by the arm and started to lead him out of the manor. Waylon caught a glimpse of Mr. Burns's face, expression unreadable.

"I can find my own way out thank you." Waylon said coolly. He did not like the feeling of being led out of a house he had so often visited.

"I'm just here to make sure you don't disrupt things further." Jenkins replied keeping a steely grip on Waylon's arm.

As they reached the front door Waylon opened it and was about to step out but as he felt Jenkins stare on the back of his neck he turned back.

"I swear on my father's grave that if you hurt him in any way there will be hell to pay." Waylon growled.

Jenkins smirked once more. "Yes we know. That's why it was so easy to lure you here tonight."

As Waylon's mind processed the words he felt two sets of arms grab him from behind. One clasped him around his mouth and one pinned his arms to his sides. The two men had come from just outside the front door.

"Oh Waylon it was too easy. You see, as soon as you heard that someone would hurt your precious Mr. Burns you came running, just like my boss predicted."

Waylon grunted and struggled to get loose from his captors but to no avail.

"I expect I'll be seeing you soon enough. Nighty-night." He mocked and Waylon felt the hand clasping shut his mouth leave. Just as he was about to scream for help he felt a cloth being placed over his mouth and nose. He ended up accidentally inhaling a a mouth and nose full of the substance on the cloth.

His vision swam and the last thing he saw was Jenkins shutting the door behind him as he was dragged away before succumbing to blackness.

* * *

Authoresses Note: Please allow me to say that I am so sorry for leaving you like this. I know I will be gone for eight days but please be patient and I will try to have a newer and longer chapter out to you by the day after I come back. Thanks for sticking around and thanks for your patience. 


	5. Finally Awake

So You See: Chapter 5 – Finally Awake

Disclaimer: I don't own The Simpsons.

Authoresses Note: Well I'm back and while I was away I wrote down several chapters in a journal so the updates should be quick. As for my other stories I just have to type out the chapters I had hand written so they should be up soon enough.

* * *

With a groan Waylon opened his heavy eyelids.

"Where am I?" He muttered aloud but found he was completely alone and received no answer. From what he could determine was that he was in a lying position.

His vision was swimming in and out of focus. He could feel his glasses on his face but his eyes were still adjusting. He tried to lift his arms to his head but they felt like lead weights. He couldn't find anything else to do but wait. Finally his vision returned and he could take a good look at his surroundings.

Looking around he found that he was lying on a cot in a small beige room. The room was quite drab, in fact in he and the cot were the only occupants. There was no windows and only one door.

He tried to lift himself up into a sitting position but when he tried to move his head started to pound and he quickly abandoned his attempt to move. Lying on the cot he tried to jog his memory as to why he was here. Things were very hazy in his mind's eye.

He bolted upright in remembrance. He quickly regretted this as his body screamed in pain and he fell sideways quite ungracefully. He toppled to the floor, hitting it chin first with a painful thud. His legs were elevated above him as they were still twisted on the cot. He grimaced as he realized how uncoordinated he was.

"Chloroform." He thought grimly.

He let his legs fall to the floor and didn't allow himself to move until he accessed the situation completely. He had been at Mr. Burns's mansion but for what reason he couldn't exactly remember. He knew he had been fired earlier and then…replaced.

His heart gave an unhappy pang as he felt the hollow betrayal. That's right, Mr. Burns had replaced him.

But why had he been at the mansion?

He racked his brain but found no answer. His brain was only semi-conscious it seemed. To Waylon's bitterness he found that it would still register pain. His whole body felt achy and bruised. He knew that his kidnappers hadn't been gentle.

His mind jolted. Kidnappers! He suddenly remembered that he had been kidnapped. He had been kidnapped after coming in to warn Mr. Burns. His memory graciously filled in the blanks for him. He had come in to warn his old boss and friend but found that he had been wrong and then…and then he had been attacked.

He tried to move his body again but found he was still too weak. He suddenly felt tired again. All that thinking had put a strain on his weakened mind and body. If he had felt more alert he would've further pondered why he was kidnapped.

If he had been more alert he would've heard someone unbolting the door from the outside.

* * *

Mr. Burns's dinner went by quietly and uninterrupted after the earlier intrusion. Jenkins didn't come upstairs for quite sometime after Smithers had left. He hoped that he hadn't done anything to rough his friend up. He frowned and squashed down that thought. Why was he suddenly caring about Waylon's wellbeing? 

Well in a way he always had, he thought to himself, he had always been there for the boy.

Even though there had been no poison as Smithers had claimed he still felt wary of his new assistant. In truth he was always suspicious of new people and now he had been given a clear warning, even if Smithers had been wrong.

He pushed his chair away from the table, Jenkins had still not returned. He walked in silence to the living room and lowered himself slowly into an armchair. He rubbed his eyes and forehead in a tired sort of way. How did it come to all this? Death threats, alienation from his best friend whom he fired, and it was all Mr. Burns's fault.

Jenkins knocked twice before letting himself enter the room.

"Oh there you are. I had wondered where you had gotten off to Monty. Do you need anything further?"

"Don't call me Monty!" Mr. Burns snapped. "And no, I don't need anything else."

Jenkins bowed his head. "Yes sir." He said before slipping out and shutting the door lightly behind him.

Monty stared at the door long after he left. Jenkins had been recommended by Richard Vandershoot when Smithers had had his outburst at the upper class party. Vandershoot had told him it had been no use to keep Smithers around after the incident and what he needed was a new and more efficient assistant. He had offered one of his own, Jenkins, for free of charge.

It was only then that Mr. Burns realized something, something important. The way the two rich men had talked about the employees, it had been like they were objects. Objects that could be bought, sold, traded, and swapped for newer models. Not something to worry or care about. Not something that had human feelings. Just another piece of machine.

He suddenly felt as cruel and cold as the people of Springfield painted him. He had few friends. Very few. And he had left his closest and oldest friend jobless and without means of getting back on his feet.

He felt very alone all of the sudden. Without thinking he reached out for the phone and dialed Smithers's, no, Waylon's phone number. He wanted, needed to make amends. Even if he didn't want to work for him there was still the chance that they could make up. It had been too long that they knew each other to not try.

He got no answer. He tried calling again another three times but he only got Waylon's voicemail. He left a short message.

"Hello Waylon. I'm sorry I'm calling so late but I needed to talk to you. If you could give me a call back that'd be great. Er, thanks."

He hung up and realized that if he himself hadn't just recorded that he wouldn't have believed it was from him. It was polite and not commanding. Waylon probably wouldn't even recognize him.

Or maybe he would. He'd recognize him from years ago. He hadn't always been so commanding and bitter. They're relationship had been on more friendly terms years ago but Waylon never left as he grew bitter and twisted with age. If anything the relationship strengthened.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in." He said wearily.

Jenkins entered and bowed his head. "I've just received a phone message on the other line sir. Mr. Vandershoot called to invite you to him estate for a private meeting. Shall I call to confirm or decline?"

Mr. Burns thought about it for a second. Maybe he still had a chance at some of the business deals he had lost.

"Confirm. Give me the time and date."

* * *

Authoresses Note: Well I'm sure that created more questions then it answered. Anyways I've always stuck to the idea that Mr. Burns became meaner and colder with age. He seemed a lot warmer in the flash back from the episode 'The Blunder Years' although maybe I haven't seen enough flashbacks to confirm my thoughts. The next chapter will be out sooner. 


	6. Discussion

So You See: Chapter 6 – Discussion

Disclaimer: I don't own The Simpsons.

Authoresses Note: Here's the sixth chapter.

* * *

The door lock clanked before swinging open. Waylon finally gained awareness that he would be facing someone and held his breath as a foot stepped through the door followed by the rest of the man. 

He smirked as he saw Waylon tangled on the floor, practically immobile.

"Having some trouble there Sport?" He mocked.

Waylon gritted his teeth in anger and tried to leap up with the intention of going after the man but his muscles refused to cooperate and he gave a howl of agony at his sudden movements. He man just laughed mockingly.

"It'll wear off soon enough." He said as he walked over and picked up Waylon off the floor by his arm. He refused to cry out this time though. He didn't want to seem any weaker than he was to the large and muscular man who was now forcing him to stand upright.

"Where am I?" He demanded, sounding braver than he felt.

"You're at my boss's mansion. He's been wanting to have a little chat with you." He said.

Waylon was now being forced to walk with the man, who was supporting him by one arm. As soon as he mentioned 'mansion' he thought of Mr. Burns. But he quickly realized Mr. Burns wouldn't have ordered him to be drugged and kidnapped to be brought into his _own_ mansion. His muscles were finally starting to obey his he gradually became less reliant on the servant.

He felt the man release his arm. "Now no funny stuff, you hear? I'm armed so don't think of running off." He warned.

Waylon rubbed his arm gingerly but said nothing. The walked in silence through the highly decorated mansion. Waylon couldn't help but realize how familiar the décor was. The drugs still probably hadn't fully worn off so his brain wasn't helping him in deciphering where he was.

Finally they reached a large set of doors. "This is the other entrance to the grand ballroom. My boss is just beyond here. Go in and sit down across from him." The man ordered. Before Waylon could say anything he was pushed through the doors which locked behind him.

He looked around in shock and realized exactly where he was. He gasped in shock as he saw the man sitting at a table in the very center of the room. It was a small table with one chair on either end.

"Good evening Mr. Smithers." Richard Vandershoot said calmly. "Won't you please sit down?" He swept his hand towards the empty seat.

Waylon felt his anger rising but decided to keep calm. He needed answers and becoming angry at this man wouldn't help him. He silently crossed the distance and sat down in the offered seat.

Vandershoot smiled but it was a cold smile that sent shivers down Waylon's spine.

"Now, let's get down to business shall we?" He said as he folded his hands on the table. Waylon was confused and it must've shown on his face because Vandershoot laughed.

"Oh that's right. You don't know what I mean do you? Of course not, you've been out for a couple of hours." He chuckled.

Waylon frowned angrily. "Why did you kidnap me here? What was the purpose?" He demanded.

"All in good time my boy. Now my resources tell me that you and your former employer, Mr. Burns, had a falling out correct?" He paused and Waylon nodded. "Right, and as you and I both know you and Mr. Burns are close friends."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Waylon interrupted.

"Just hold on. It was on my recommendation that he fire you and not wanting to appear weak or the kind of person who actually _befriends _his inferiors. He gave in despite your connection and now you're out of a job." He snapped his fingers suddenly and seemingly out of thin air a servant appeared carrying a silver tray with a bottle of scotch and two shot glasses. "Where are my manners? Would you like something to drink?" He offered.

"No. And you still haven't told me why I'm here hearing this." He said holding back his anger and what he had just been told.

Vandershoot's servant poured a glass of scotch for his boss before Vandershoot waved him away. As quickly as the servant came he was gone. Throwing back his head he drank his glass before turning back to Waylon.

"You're here because you fell for the trap that my minions set up on my orders, just like I predicted you would. You and your former boss Mr. Burns were such good friends that you risked a lot by going back and warning him."

"So?" Waylon asked.

"So that means he'd surely do the same for you." Vandershoot said simply.

"Hah! I'm sure he'd do the same." Waylon sarcastically scoffed. "Besides what could you possibly do to me that would cause me great harm? I've got nothing left to live for at the moment." He said bitterly.

"Well since my last behavior prediction came true I'm going to assume that this next one will too." Vandershoot said.

Waylon snorted, "Yeah? And what's that?"

"When Mr. Burns comes here tomorrow evening for dinner with me I will give him an ultimatum. His plant or your life." He leaned forward as he said it, slowly and seriously.

Waylon was silent for a second before he burst out laughing. "Oh Mr. Vandershoot you are hilarious!" He said as he slapped his knees.

Vandershoot frowned. "Something wrong?" He asked.

Waylon wiped a stray tear away as his laugher died down. "You don't _actually_ expect Mr. Burns to choose me do you? I always thought you were smarter than that." He said.

Vandershoot angrily slammed his fists on the table. "You shut up. My plan will work! And let me tell you boy, if you even think of trying to warn Mr. Burns ahead of time I'll kill him. And we all know how badly you'd feel if you were the cause of his death."

Waylon went silent as he glared at Vandershoot. He suddenly snapped his fingers once more and the guard who had led him to the room walked in.

"Take him away. Lock him up in the room and don't let him near a phone or any way of making contact." Vandershoot ordered.

"Just one thing. What do you have against Mr. Burns that you're taking these measures to get the nuclear plant?" Waylon asked as the guard grabbed his arm.

Vandershoot gave a bitter laugh. "Wouldn't you like to know?" He said and waved his arm in a dismissing motion to the guard. The guard nodded and led Waylon back out of the room. The last thing he saw was Vandershoot angrily drumming his nails on the table before the door slammed shut.


End file.
